


Maybe Eyefucking is a Superpower

by accol



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of the guys go see <em>X-Men: First Class</em>.  Brad and Nate realize that Charles and Erik have a very familiar dynamic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wonder Twin Powers Activate!

**Author's Note:**

> Based on fictionalized portrayals in the HBO miniseries _Generation Kill_.

 

****

 

Walt looked like a kid whose mom had just whispered “Dairy Queen” and jingled the car keys.

“You guys just don’t even know! The _X-Men_ are my childhood. I kept those comics under my pillow!” Everyone laughed because that enthusiasm was so Walt. It was an expected part of his charm by this point.

“Little brother, you know this: Marines _are_ superheroes. Sleeping on those books put you on the right path,” Rudy said.

Walt’s eyes looked dreamy for a minute while he presumably imagined himself with mutant powers. He was beaming the biggest smile anyone had seen from him in months. Ray threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s get to the theater before Walt jizzes in his pants. You know, Walt, this isn’t some adult movie theater we’re going to. I don’t care how many times you whacked it to Emma Frost’s crystal tits or motherfucking Beast’s hairy blue feet. Whatever you’re down with, you know I still love and respect you. But there might be children present tonight, so keep it in your pants,” Ray said.

Walt blushed and fake-punched Ray in the gut a little harder than necessary.

“Let’s go, kids,” Brad said, getting in the driver’s seat of his car. Nate smiled a little at the apt description and got in shotgun. No one would have ever given a thought that Nate would sit anywhere else except next to Brad. They quietly complemented each other. Everyone saw the professional side of Brad and Nate as a finely tuned unit. The personal side didn’t really exist yet.  It had been hinted at, but nothing more.

Walt and Ray piled in the back of Brad’s car. They’d barely left the base when Walt piped up. “What would you want your power to be if you were a mutant?”

Ray was the first to answer. “Invisibility.”

“Ray,” Brad started, “that would do you no good whatsoever.”

“Why not?”

Brad looked at Ray silently through the rearview mirror and cocked an eyebrow. Nate turned around and looked at Ray with the same cocked eyebrow.

Ray answered his own question, “Yeah, yeah. I talk a lot. Fine. Then I choose, like, the ability to convince anyone to do anything by just saying it.”

“Awesome! Sort of like Silver Fox in the _Wolverine_ movie. No, wait... I think she had to touch people for that to work. Purple Man maybe?” Walt was gushing. “What about you guys?”

“Is deafness a superpower?” Brad asked. “Because that’s the one I want right about now.” Nate barely suppressed a snort of laughter.

“Let the kids have their fun, Sergeant,” Nate said quietly. Brad looked over and rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were turned up into a smile.

“Since Brad doesn’t know his biological parents,” Ray continued, “Yo! You’re Superman but with Brad Colbert as your secret identity. The Iceman is Superman!”

Brad was enjoying that idea a little bit. Nate could see him silently mulling over how he could use this to his advantage the next time he needed to get the Team in line.  Times like this when Nate could see Brad plotting, thinking, reflecting on something -- those were things Nate didn’t think anyone else ever noticed in Brad. Everyone else just saw the Iceman, but Nate had learned how to read Brad’s face for the little signs of what he was thinking.

“Nah, man, Rudy is a better fit for Superman. Plus that’s DC, not Marvel,” Walt said.

“Whatever, dude. Then Brad and the LT are obviously the Wonder Twins,” Ray said.

Nate and Brad were both abruptly pulled out of their thoughts, back to the moment, to share a questioning look.

“Dude, that’s DC, not Marvel. We’re going to see _X-Men: First Class_ and X-Men are  Marvel characters. You can’t just be mixing universes. It doesn’t work that way,” Walt said with his feathers obviously ruffled.

Ray just looked at him with a ‘stop being a know-it-all’ face. “Hear me out on this. Did you watch that cartoon _Super Friends_ when you were kids?”

“You ate too much sugary cereal as a child, Ray,” Brad mumbled. He and Nate shared another look, both silently wishing that Ray would keep his overly perceptive observations to himself. They already suspected where he was going with this.

“The Wonder Twins’ powers only worked when they were touching and they could speak without talking, like a mind meld or some shit,” Ray said, quite satisfied with himself.

“Except for the part that mind melds are from _Star Trek_ and not from Marvel, DC, or any other comic book, that sounds pretty much right,” Walt said.

Nate and Brad shared a silent look that was 3 parts exasperation and 2 parts guarded realization. Obviously they didn’t have superpowers, nor did they have _that_ kind of personal relationship.

 _Yet_ , they both thought.

However, they each were realizing with chagrin that other people noticed the way they looked at each other. Brad knew that he sometimes looked at Nate with more than a professional gaze; and Nate knew he sometimes looked at Brad with an admiring eye that drifted down to trace his body. They had already begun to suspect that these desires might be reciprocated, but there hadn't been an appropriate time to push it forward. The looks were getting longer, and the teasing was getting less brotherly. Brad and Nate had both noticed the changes... They just would prefer if no one else noticed, especially not before they had some time to figure out for themselves what the fuck was going on.

Then their thoughts were interrupted by Ray’s voice from the back seat. “See what I’m talking about, homes? Eyefucking is your superpower. It’s kind of a lame power as powers go, though.”

“Ray...” Nate said in his best LT voice, reluctantly looking away from Brad and toward the two in the back seat. He put a single fingertip conspicuously on Brad’s right shoulder, and said, “Wonder Twin powers activate. Form of ‘time to shut the fuck up.’”

Walt laughed, a little louder than strictly necessary, probably due to his fanboy excitement for the movie.  Ray was mostly quiet for the remaining minutes to the theater. Brad caught him looking very self-satisfied in the rearview though, particularly when Ray noticed Nate’s finger linger on Brad’s shoulder.

When Nate finally put his hand back in his own lap, the feeling of his touch remained for a while longer on Brad’s skin, and Brad savored it. He quickly looked over at Nate’s profile and then back at the road when he saw Nate grinning quietly.

 


	2. Get Out of the Hole, Get Out of the Water

The theater was packed by the time they got there. Walt _had_ to wait in line for the super-sized soda because it came in a cup with a picture of Beast on the side. Ray wiggled his eyebrows at Walt, and Walt blushed again.

  
“Shut up, Ray,” Walt mumbled.  
  
“Hey, I didn’t say a thing.”  
  
Ray, Walt, and the other four guys managed to find a row together. Poke had kids of his own so Brad and Nate left him to wrangle this bunch into their seats while they headed to a row further back.  
  
“No activating your Wonder Twin powers back there. This is a family place,” Ray called out after them.  
  
Trombley flicked a piece of popcorn that hit Ray’s ear, so Ray didn’t see the look that Brad and Nate shared. In the dim light of the theater, more than a dozen rows away from the other men, both had independently come to the conclusion that they would test the waters. After more than a year, first in Iraq, then back here in California, it was time.  
  
Nate had plans for after the USMC; he already had an exit strategy to enter civilian life. But Nate knew that discretion was paramount to protect Brad’s career. Nate  _really_ wanted to find out what was going on here between them, but he wasn’t going to do it if it was going to fuck things up for Brad.  
  
Brad had been pushing his luck with his LT for months. He relished every time that Nate understood the underlying meaning in one of his subtle double entendres. Nate had never asked him to dial it back despite their increasing frequency. But a wrong move could be embarrassing or worse.  
  
 _Carefully_ , they both thought. Everything had to look innocent or accidental until they knew.  
  
Brad got to the row with open seats first -- the very back row, as it happened. He stood aside like a gentleman to let Nate pass. (Really, he wasn’t being particularly gentlemanly. He was admiring Nate’s ass.) Nate’s chest brushed Brad’s as he moved past. (There had been plenty of space, but Nate had wanted to gauge Brad’s reaction. Brad had smirked.) Nate took the first open seat and stood back against it to let Brad pass. (Brad's ass brushed against Nate’s leg, and Nate leaned into the touch.) Brad took off his jacket. (Nate’s hand stroked across the back of Brad’s neck before he held the collar of the coat to help.)  
  
All of this took maybe 45 seconds, but already things were moving forward in a hurry. They both knew it. It felt ridiculously easy, like rolling downhill. They were both too practical to ignore the potential for disaster; nothing could be this easy.  
  
Brad rested the bucket of popcorn on his knee and signaled that Nate could help himself. Their hands brushed a couple of times in the buttered mess as the previews played. Each time that happened, the muscles in Brad’s thighs would clench. He had to keep consciously relaxing himself. Then, Nate’s fingers tangled with his.  
  
“Are you trying to steal the popcorn right out of my hand?” Brad leaned over and whispered. His fingers squeezed Nate’s in the popcorn bucket.  
  
Nate wasn’t a teenager anymore, even though sitting next to Brad in a dark theater was making parts of him feel 16 again. He knew that Brad was trying to get a rise out of him, just like Nate brushing up against Brad earlier was to see how he’d react. Nate took the challenge.  
  
“Are you trying to hold my hand, Colbert? Ray warned us...”  
  
“Ah, yes. The wise Corporal Person. No activating powers in public,” Brad said, keeping the banter on the up-and-up as well as he could. He breathed in the smell of Nate’s shaving cream, tasting the air across his tongue. His fingers pressed between Nate’s.  
  
Their cheeks slid past each other as Nate moved to whisper a response in Brad’s ear. Their lips had been so close, the tips of their noses brushed past each other in the maneuver.  
  
“I am the commanding officer here, not Person, and I say, _Shape of..._ ”  
  
“Shhhhh,” Brad interrupted, this time much closer to Nate’s cheek. His lips brushed against Nate’s earlobe and his fingers laced with Nate’s fully. “The movie’s starting, Sir. We should finish this later.”  
  
Nate stopped breathing for a few seconds. Again, their cheeks touched. Nate tried to tell himself that this was definitely NOT the time or the place. He had been jerking off to thoughts of getting into Brad’s pants for months, so he was having a hard time convincing himself to be cautious.  
  
“We’ll _start_ this later,” Nate said.  
  
They moved their heads apart just far enough to share a look of flirtatious amusement. Then the opening music began, and their fingers loosened and withdrew. Brad brushed a kernel of popcorn off of Nate’s leg using a few extra, unnecessary strokes.  
  
“There,” Brad whispered. He took a handful of popcorn out of the bucket and cocked an eyebrow at Nate. A twanging siren of caution was going off in Brad’s ribcage. _What the fuck, Colbert? You’re in public less than 5 miles from base. Rein it in._ He decided they just needed to make it through the movie without actually kissing; that was a reasonable goal, he hoped.  
  
Nate shifted in his seat, because _What the fuck were they doing?_ He wanted this a lot, but if they continued at this rate they weren’t going to make it out of the public theater without something distinctly private happening. Brad wasn’t making it easier by brushing popcorn off Nate’s leg.  
  
Around the time Moira MacTaggert stripped off her dress and infiltrated the Hellfire Club, Brad put the rest of the popcorn on the floor and ran his hand down the length of Nate’s thigh again. Nate slowly turned his head to Brad, his raised, questioning brow barely visible in the low light. Brad was not making this easy at all.  
  
Brad shrugged. “No napkin,” he whispered, leaning in toward Nate. He couldn’t help himself.  
  
“Is that so?” Nate whispered back, locking eyes with Brad. He grabbed Brad’s wrist and rubbed Brad’s hand up Brad’s leg, maybe going higher than was wise considering the venue. Brad’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Nate’s hand lingered, pressing on Brad’s, high up on this thigh. Then he turned back to the screen and ran his own hand down Brad’s jeans. Nominally he was getting revenge for the buttery finger marks on his own leg, but mostly Nate was giving Brad a taste of his own torture.  
  
 _Fuck. Are we doing this?_ Brad repositioned himself in his seat.  
  
It was all outwardly platonic again until Charles Xavier first felt Erik Lensherr’s mind under that water and jumped in after him. That’s when things fell off the proverbial cliff for Brad and Nate. Apparently they weren’t the Wonder Twins after all. They were Charles and Erik underwater.  
  
Nate saw something of Brad in Erik -- in particular, the bomb in that fucking hole in Baghdad; how Brad had needed to see it disarmed even at his own peril. He had been doing something fucking stupid to make up for something that had been almost entirely out of his control. And then Charles pulled Erik back, just like Nate had pulled Brad back. Nate gripped the shared armrest hard. He felt Brad stiffen next to him, and he was sure Brad was thinking of Baghdad too.  
  
Brad blanched in the darkness, and then he blushed. His feelings were muddled and complex when Charles’ arms surrounded Erik underwater. Brad thought of Baghdad. He’d been starting to disarm that IED to somehow try to make things right; to make up for the command that resulted in that boy’s death at the end of Trombley’s rifle. Erik Lensherr was after Shaw for vengeance, but maybe he was making things right for his mother’s memory, like Brad was trying to do for that boy. That didn’t particularly matter in Brad’s thoughts right now... The important part of the scene was Charles pulling Erik away from something that could kill him, just like Nate verbally dragging Brad out of that hole. Brad grabbed at the armrest, looking for some stability. He found some, like always, in Nate.  
  
Brad turned his head quickly to look at Nate. He had already started identifying Nate in Charles Xavier: educated, driven by a higher ideal, articulate, handsome. Now add savior of men in crisis. No one else would be able to understand the images this scene dredged up for Brad like Nate could.  
  
“You ok?” Nate asked, so close to Brad’s ear.  
  
Brad nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”  
  
Nate sighed next to Brad’s shoulder. Brad was thanking him for Baghdad, he knew it. He let his mouth fall against Brad’s shoulder, wanting desperately to touch Brad’s skin. He forced himself to pull away before he formed his lips into a kiss.  
  
Nate nodded at Brad and faced the screen again. Brad didn’t let Nate’s hand go for several more minutes. Nate was content to be held there by Brad’s iron grip for as long as Brad needed him.  
  
On screen: _Erik -- What do you know about me? Charles -- Everything._ Brad’s knee pressed against Nate’s. Nate pressed back, hand still held under Brad’s on the armrest.  
  
Brad’s grip on Nate’s hand finally eased when Charles and Erik went out to recruit other mutants. They were obviously enjoying each other’s company, eyefucking their way across the globe. That seemed familiar.  
  
Brad put his arm on the back of Nate’s seat, turning more fully toward Nate without his shoulder obstructing the way. “When was the last time you went to a strip club?”  
  
“I don’t know. A couple of years ago, between Dartmouth and Pendleton. Why? When was the last time you went to one?”  
  
“Took Ray for his birthday a couple of months ago. He passed out while he was getting a lap dance. He was actually snoring into this girl’s tits. Too bad they didn’t allow video in that place.”  
  
Nate laughed out loud, slamming his lips together in a hard line to muffle the noise. His eyes watered with laughter, and his whole body shook. The mental picture of Person passed out ON a stripper was just too damn much. Brad’s hand closed around Nate’s far shoulder, pulling him tight. Nate grabbed at Brad’s knee, just to try to rein himself in.  
  
“Shhhh,” Brad said against the shell of Nate’s ear. Brad’s chest was against Nate’s arm. He loved the feeling of Nate like this, worry free and happy; laughing because of something he had said.  
  
Nate started to calm down. He breathed slowly and steadily through his nose.  
  
Brad wouldn’t let up, though. “Captain America was there, too.”  
  
“Brad, fucking shut up right now,” Nate hissed in self-preservation.  
  
“He got so drunk that he was crying. He was literally fucking crying tears while he was telling this topless chick about patriotism. She was nodding along like he was the smartest motherfucker she’d ever talked to.”  
  
Nate felt tears of laughter in his eyelashes. He was grateful that the music was loud for a few seconds longer, because he dragged in a ragged breath between laughs. He held up his hand to signal that Brad should stop and watch the movie again.  
  
Brad smirked and leaned in to tell Nate more. “And then...”  
  
Nate’s hand shot up and covered Brad’s lips. “No 'and then,'” Nate gasped.  
  
Without thinking, Brad pushed his lips against Nate’s fingers. It might have been a kiss. Nate stopped laughing. He didn’t pull his fingers away, though. He leaned next to Brad’s ear, breathing hot over it.  
  
“Here’s something you don’t know. Once in college, I stripped at an amateur’s night for a dare.”  
  
Brad’s lips fell open against Nate’s fingers.  
  
Nate told Brad more of the story. “I was drunk enough to think it was a good idea, but not so drunk that I lost my rhythm.”  
  
Brad was holding his breath.  
  
“I made $150 that night and only got down to my underwear.”  
  
Brad turned his head minutely and pulled Nate’s hand away from his lips. “Only $150? I’m sure it was worth more than that.”  
  
Nate squeezed Brad’s knee and leaned back into his seat. He smirked in the dim light and turned back to the movie. Brad pulled his arm back from Nate’s shoulders, but his look lingered for a few more seconds before he turned to face forward. Nate’s fingers stayed on Brad’s knee for a while.  
  
They watched when Erik threw himself over Charles in the crashing airplane to protect him. They watched Charles’ desperation when he couldn’t feel Erik’s mind anymore. And they watched the bullet paralyze Charles’ body; the anguish on their faces when they realized how badly things were fucked.  
  
Brad felt a tight feeling in his gut. The relationship on screen was hitting close to home. War and love. Brad was not a fan of the idea of fucking things up with Nate. Tonight had been too good.  
  
When the credits rolled, Nate and Brad stood up immediately. They were both desperate to move. Walt made his row stay until the end of the credits in case there was a stinger like after _X-Men: The Last Stand_. Poke looked totally fed up, like he’d actually taken his preschooler kids to the movies and had to keep them from kicking the seats in front of them for the last 2.5 hours.  
  
Brad and Nate went to the head at the far end of the theater. It was empty.  
  
“What did you think?” Nate asked, making conversation to distract from the fact that they were at adjacent urinals and their upper arms were touching lightly. Men never pissed in adjacent urinals, not even Marines used to close quarters. Maybe men who wanted to fuck each other pissed in adjacent urinals. Neither Brad nor Nate was fluent in this kind of thing, but that felt like what was going on.  
  
“They were definitely fucking,” Brad said.  
  
Nate’s eyes opened wide for a moment, and then he laughed. “Charles and Erik? Affirmative.” He shook and zipped. “Gives _mindfucking_ a whole new meaning.”  
  
“That was probably some melt-the-bedsprings kind of kinky shit. It _was_ Magneto in the 60s,” Brad said, zipping.  
  
“What do you know about kinky sex?”  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”  
  
Nate just smiled.  
  
“The idea of Charles mindfucking Erik,” Brad started, but he dropped the sentence not knowing how to finish it without crossing a line they hadn’t quite crossed yet.  
  
“Yep,” Nate said. He knew exactly what Brad was getting at. “Did you notice the characters were like the guys in the Platoon.”  
  
“Who’s who?”  
  
Nate laughed. “Hank is probably Patterson. Wolverine is Doc. Hasser is the blond kid with the energy hoops...”  
  
“Havok,” Brad said.  
  
Nate nodded. “Banshee must be Ray.”  
  
Brad laughed now, and gently punched Nate in the arm as an excuse to touch him. “You’re doing the obvious ones. Who’s the stripper with the dragonfly wings? What was her name?” Brad asked.  
  
“Angel, I think. Garza is maybe Angel?” Nate and Brad shared a look in the mirror and laughed. “I guess the analogy falls apart at some point. Although seeing Ray pass out drunk on Garza’s tits would be worth the price of admission.”  
  
Brad laughed and finished washing his hands. The obvious assignments of Charles and Erik had been left unsaid. “Hand me a paper towel?”  
  
Nate gave Brad one. Their hands touched again and it sent a jolt to Nate’s gut. It did the same to Brad. They stood there for a second, just looking at each other with Brad’s fingers over Nate’s in the crumpled paper. Nate shifted his minutely, letting one of Brad’s fingers fall between his. He squeezed.  
  
“Can...” Nate started. “Do you...” Brad started at the same time.  
  
“Shut up,” Nate said, starting to close the gap between their bodies, but another movie must have gotten out and a flood of teenagers was suddenly in the men’s room. They pulled apart like nothing was happening and walked to the lobby.  
  
 _Fuck. This is going to happen._  
  



	3. Mindfucking

“Well, gentlemen, X-Men introduced us to two people who eyefuck more than these two,” Ray declared, gesturing to Nate and Brad. “God knows how they managed _that_.”

  
The key to dealing with Ray was to maintain a neutral posture and expression, otherwise he would pounce. He was too observant. Nate and Brad made a point to not look at each other. Presumably whatever had been about to happen in the men’s room would be resolved soon. However, Ray and his apparently bottomless pool of wit did not need to know about it.  
  
“Their connection is what makes them good leaders, brother. We all should be so lucky to be that in tune with someone,” Rudy said, unknowingly coming to the rescue. Superman, indeed. Nate stole a look at Brad’s face and saw the tension there relax subtly.  
  
“Let’s all shut the fuck up about eyesex,” Poke said loudly. “I need a fucking beer or six after that display in there. _You_ fools need to think about your life choices.” He angrily jabbed his finger at Ray, Garza, Walt, and Trombley. He was definitely sounding like a dad that regretted taking his FUBARed kids to the movies.  
  
“What?” All of them played innocent. (What popcorn throwing? What loud talking? What fidgeting?)  
  
“Yo, shut up until I have a cold one in my hand. No. No, let me tell you what. If you manage to stay quiet and _fucking polite_ \-- have some decorum, you’re motherfucking Marines -- if you can do that all the way to the bar, I will buy the first round.”  
  
Garza and Trombley more-or-less quietly went with Rudy and Poke at that point. The offer of free drinks could do wonders.  
  
“Get in the car,” Brad said to Walt and Ray.  
  
“So we’re punished now? Go to bed without any beer?” Ray sassed. Pushing Brad’s temper seemed to be one of Ray’s favorite pastimes.  
  
“Get in the car before Poke changes his mind about buying you one.”  
  
Ray got in the car. Threaten his beer and he falls in line. Brad shook his head and a smile threatened the corners of his stern mouth; a smile just for Nate now that no one would see. Nate winked at him over the roof of the car.  
  
“Walt, you should call your buddy Azazel and have him teleport you over to the bar,” Brad said, getting behind the wheel.  
  
Before Walt had time to provide some geeky answer, Ray said, “Why? So you two can fuck in the backseat?”  
  
Of course that was _exactly_ the reason; so that Brad could have Nate alone in the car. They definitely had some things to get started.  
  
“Ray,” Nate said sharply. His tone was enough to warn Ray off.  
  
It was a short drive to the usual bar. They dropped Ray and Walt out front.  
  
“You guys aren’t coming?” Walt asked. (“No, they’re going parking. I told you,” Ray said loudly.)  
  
“No thanks,” Nate said, ignoring Ray. “Early morning tomorrow.” That was probably a lie. A late night tonight was probably more accurate, but he wasn’t sure yet.  
  
“Brad?” Walt asked.  
  
“Nah. I’m going to get up early and surf, I think.” That was also probably a lie. Unlike most hook-ups, Brad figured he would be waking up next to this one. In fact, calling Nate a hook-up sounded ridiculous. “You guys ok to get a cab home?”  
  
“Yeah. Let’s hope it’s not an ambulance. Or a hearse,” Walt said, looking over at Ray. “I’d better go stand between him and Espera. I think he’s pretty pissed about the thing with the Icee.”  
  
Ray was already over talking to the bouncer and having a smoke. Poke bumped him as he went inside. (“Dude!”)  
  
Brad and Nate had been temporarily forgotten, so now was their window to leave without further sticky questions. It was time to put distance between themselves and the people who shouldn’t know about what might be coming at the other end of this car ride. Walt gave a cursory wave and smile and they pulled into traffic.  
  
“If you lived any closer to UCSD I’d have to start calling you Professor.”  
  
Nate smiled. “I could almost certainly teach you a thing or two.”  
  
“What? A college boy, dick suck, ivory tower kind of thing?”  
  
Nate laughed at how on the nose Brad’s double entendre was. “Precisely that kind of thing.”  
  
“When are office hours?”  
  
Nate pretended to look at his watch. He didn’t answer though.  
  
Brad drove them in silence after that. Nate could tell Brad was thinking deeply by the way his eyes tightened at the corners.  
  
 _Carefully._  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Nate asked softly.  
  
“That scene where Erik goes after Shaw’s sub and Charles saves him. It was like...” Brad said.  
  
“Baghdad,” they said simultaneously.  
  
They looked at each other. Nate put his hand over Brad’s on the gear shift. Brad nodded at him. There were exactly zero other people in the world that shared the intensity of that moment in Baghdad. Not even Poke or Gunny, who’d been there. They hadn’t shared in the look. They hadn’t shared in the silent plea that Nate sent to Brad, standing over that IED and ordering him not to die. Nate remembered that moment with more clarity than any other moment from OIF. He had known exactly what Brad’s motivations and intentions were, and he had been terrified that Brad would get hurt. Brad remembered the sound of Nate’s voice if not the exact words, and he remembered the look in Nate’s eyes. It had been an angry, needy look that Brad couldn’t turn away from. It had been a hell of a lot more than eyefucking.  
  
“Park in the lot. You should come up for a beer,” Nate said as they were pulling up to his apartment.  
  
Brad nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, I should.”  
  
Nate fumbled his key slightly when Brad leaned a hand against the door frame. Nate could feel Brad close behind him, and a shiver of need and anticipation ran up his spine.  
  
“Cold?” Brad asked as Nate finally got the key in the slot.  
  
“Not even a little bit,” Nate responded.  
  
“Open the door then,” Brad said. His other hand wound itself over Nate’s, slowly exerting a bit of pressure to turn the knob.  
  
“When I do, that’s the last step. Are you ready to take it, Sergeant?”  
  
Brad wanted to draw his lips up the back of Nate’s neck. He didn’t, but his mouth was close to Nate’s skin when he responded. “Absolutely, Sir.”  
  
Nate turned the knob and pushed the door open. He reached back and grabbed Brad’s shirt, pulling him inside. Nate pushed Brad against the wall next to the door and shut it.  
  
“What are we doing?”  
  
“Discovering that we are eyefucking mutants, apparently,” Brad said, trying to lighten the mood. Lightening the mood wasn’t his usual task; it was Ray’s, and Brad didn’t think he’d succeeded.  
  
Nate’s hands were hard on the fronts of Brad’s shoulders, holding him in place. “I trust you and your discretion, so I’m going to ask directly and I want a direct answer: Will you reciprocate my advances? At the theater, that was flirting -- a lot of it -- and I want to know explicitly what you are thinking.”  
  
“I stepped over the line you drew in the metaphorical sand, Sir... Nate. The threshold of your front door was the last step before _this_ ,” Brad gestured between them, brushing Nate’s stomach through his shirt. “I’m all in. I’ve been flirting with you since somewhere around Mathilda. Even with your mind reading you didn’t pick up on it?” Brad smirked.  
  
“Give me a yes or a no, Brad,” Nate ordered. There was no room for uncertainty in this for Nate.  
  
“ _Fuck_ yes.”  
  
Nate sighed, not knowing why he was apparently cock-blocking himself here. Brad was sending all the signals, spoken and unspoken, but he hadn’t said... something. Nate didn’t know what he needed Brad to say, but he did know he hadn’t heard it yet. Nate had no doubts that fucking Brad was exactly what he wanted, and he wanted Brad to be absolutely sure that he wanted it and that the risks were worth it.  
  
Nate kept Brad pinned to the wall. He watched Brad’s face for every sign. “When Charles first felt Erik’s mind out on the boat, before they met...”  
  
Brad nodded and his skin prickled with that mixture of emotions again. His hands were about to reach out and touch Nate of their own accord.  
  
“Charles _had_ to go out to him in the water. It looked like a compulsion from where I was sitting. That’s the way this is for me, Brad.” Now it was Nate’s turn to gesture between them. “It’s gotten to the point where I can barely be around you without itching to touch you.” The volume of Nate’s voice had gotten lower and lower until he whispered the last few words.  
  
“You’re worried that it’s going to affect our combat performance,” Brad said.  
  
“Yes, I’m worried about exactly that. I’m also worried that I’ll fuck things up and get you NJPed or worse.”  
  
“I don’t want those things to happen either. The idea of you facing a DD for a relationship with your subordinate is a big part of why I was waiting, but don’t stop this before it starts, Nate, please. This... I want it. You want it.”  
  
Brad had just said it, what Nate needed to hear. Nate was only willing to risk all of that if this was going to be more than a one-night stand, and it sounded like Brad was on the same page. Nate’s mind relaxed and his humor started trickling back in.  
  
“Is that your cock talking?” Nate wanted to press the whole length of his body against Brad’s. He settled for moving his face closer.  
  
“Probably. At least partly,” Brad replied. A buzzing had filled his chest. Brad wondered how fucked he was that he started acting like a 17 year old kid every time Nate was happy.  
  
“Your cock is persuasive.”  
  
“Your lips are distracting,” Brad said. “I thought of you every time Charles Xavier and his fucking pink mouth had a line in the movie.”  
  
Charles’ lips were red like Erik had mouthfucked him from New York to Cuba and back. More than a little bit, Brad wanted Nate to look like that after tonight. Brad slid his thumbs through Nate’s belt loops. Nate let himself be pulled closer, never breaking eye contact.  
  
“Nate,” Brad said softly.  
  
More of the tension left Nate’s body. He stopped pressing Brad against the wall with his hands and let them slide down to Brad’s biceps.  
  
“Nate, I am sure,” Brad whispered.  
  
He ran his hands around the waistband of Nate’s jeans. Nate’s pupils constricted, and Brad felt his chest masquerade as a 17 year old’s again, fluttering.  
  
“Let’s have a drink,” Nate finally said.  
  
“You don’t have to get me drunk for this.”  
  
“To be perfectly frank, if I don’t drink something, I’m liable to come in my shorts like a teenager as soon as you touch me.” Nate was relaxed enough to say this with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
“Well, then, onward to the prophylactic beer,” Brad smiled. He was glad that Nate also was potentially about to make an ass out of himself.  
  
In the kitchen, Nate bent at the waist to grab the beers out of the fridge. He caught Brad staring at his ass when he turned around to hand him a bottle.  
  
“How many times did I _not_ catch you checking me out on the job?”  
  
“This Marine wasn’t taught how to count that high, Sir.”  
  
Nate walked the last step up to Brad, chest-to-chest, and slowly pushed him out to the living room. When the back of Brad’s thighs hit the couch, Nate brushed his lips across Brad’s. It was a tease, not even a first kiss yet, and Brad groaned when Nate broke away to sit down. Nate wanted to go back for more, but he also had been serious about not wanting to come as soon as Brad’s hands got in his jeans.  
  
“Since we already crossed the line in the sand, I want to know what were you going to say earlier about the idea of Charles mindfucking Erik,” Nate said.  
  
“Are you asking me to talk dirty to you?” Brad sat down on the couch, pressing his knee against Nate’s.  
  
“I’m testing your creativity.”  
  
Brad laughed. “Because I will if you ask.” That wasn’t really Brad’s usual thing, but he wanted to know everything that turned Nate on so he could use it on him later.  
  
“I’m waiting for your answer. Unlike Charles, I can’t read your mind.” Nate didn’t care about dirty talk either. However, he couldn’t wait to find out what made Brad make totally incoherent noises. Nate took a long drink of beer.  
  
“I thought eyefucking telepathy was our superpower.” Brad was sassy when Nate had him alone. Nate loved it. Here there was no chain of command, so Brad could say exactly what he was thinking.  
  
“I’ll start then. If we asked what Erik would do with his power in that situation, I think he would cuff Charles to the bed. Or maybe bend the bedframe to suit his purposes.”  
  
“Obvious,” Brad said with faked dismissiveness. Brad took another drink, and Nate felt his mouth water at the sight of Brad’s lips on the bottle.  
  
“I’m waiting,” Nate said.  
  
Brad was waiting too. Which one of them was going to initiate this thing? Flirting over beers wasn’t going to last much longer before Brad crossed to the other end of the couch. But, until Nate had finished more of his drink, Brad would play along.  
  
“You’re waiting for me to cuff you to the bed? I left my handcuffs at home...”  
  
“Yes, you told me that you’re schooled in the ways of kinky sex. But you still haven’t said what you think Charles would do to Erik,” Nate said. He shifted his knee against Brad’s. He might have just agreed to let Brad tie him to the bed at some later date. Nate thought Brad could talk him into that.  
  
“Charles could send Erik any mental image he wanted. He could look and feel like anything.”  
  
“You mean his ass could feel like anything when Erik was fucking it,” Nate said.  
  
“Fuck, Nate. You said it, not me,” Brad said, leaning toward Nate. Nate found it amusing that Brad’s face was reading surprised and predatory at the same time.  
  
“But you were thinking it,” Nate replied. He took a drink of his beer.  
  
“I thought you couldn’t read my mind,” Brad said. He put two fingers on Nate’s temple and then pushed them back behind Nate’s ear. He was willing Nate forward with almost no pressure from his fingers.  
  
“I read that off your face. Pretty sure you licked your lips in anticipation.” Nate’s eyes were drawn to Brad’s mouth. He wanted to put his fingers there and have Brad pull them in across his tongue.  
  
“If I licked my lips, it wasn’t because of the _X-Men_ ,” Brad smirked. Nate was still looking at his mouth. “If Charles looped the sensations, it would be like both of them were fucking and getting fucked.”  
  
“I think you got an A+ on the creativity test,” Nate said.  
  
He ran the cold of his beer bottle over his forehead. Brad held his beer in the wide V of his legs, drawing Nate’s eyes there. He let Brad’s hand urge them closer.  
  
“Hot?” asked Brad.  
  
Nate finally looked up at Brad’s eyes. Nate’s pupils were blown wide.  
  
“Here,” Brad said, putting his beer on the coffee table and lifting one of Nate’s feet onto his lap. He slowly took off Nate’s shoe, and then the other one, leaving Nate’s bare feet on his lap. Brad ran his thumbs up the arches. “Feel good?”  
  
“Yeah. You might put me to sleep doing that though, and I don’t think that’s what we’re here for.”  
  
Brad had reclaimed his beer from the table. “You are completely right.” He put the cold bottle on the bottom of Nate’s foot, and Nate sprang up from the temperature shock.  
  
“Fuck you, Colbert,” Nate said, having already jumped onto Brad’s lap to threaten some sort of revenge. Nate jammed his knees alongside Brad’s hips, locking them down into the couch. They were both laughing.  
  
“That is what I’m here for.” And then they weren’t laughing anymore.  
  
 _This is happening._  
  
“I want this. Tell me again that you do.” Although the words themselves might have been begging, Nate’s tone was a command. One of his hands was wrapped around Brad’s belt buckle, pulling insistently in the direction of his own crotch. His other hand was pressed on Brad’s upper chest. He could feel Brad’s heartbeat.  
  
“Your mind reading sucks,” Brad laughed, looking up at Nate. He pushed his beer into Nate’s hand and watched Nate drain it. “I am here because you were holding my hand in the popcorn bucket. I’m here because you were going to kiss me in the movie theater bathroom. I want you, Nate. I have for a long time, and I want to do something about it.”  
  
Nate dropped the empty bottle to the carpet. He pulled Brad’s shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He drank in a sight he’d seen plenty of times before: Brad’s naked chest. This time, however, it was just _more_. He yanked at Brad’s belt with both hands.  
  
“You and your goddamn face, Colbert, from the day I met you. And then I heard you talk. You should know I have a weakness for smart people.” Nate unzipped Brad’s pants.  
  
“Take off your shirt, Professor,” Brad said with a smirk. Before it even hit the floor, Brad manhandled Nate into the kiss.  
  
Moments after their lips touched they were both moaning.  
  
 _It’s about time this happened._  
  
The build up had been over so many months. Tonight’s flirtation had been agonizingly perfect. Now, this kiss was mind shattering. Nate’s hands wrapped around the back of Brad’s neck. His thumbs held Brad’s jawline. Brad’s long arms crossed around Nate’s lower back, grinding him downward as Brad reached up to his mouth. Lips gave way to tongues, sliding wet between their mouths. Nate’s thrust forward, then Brad’s, then again. Their breath came hot and fast around their kiss.  
  
Nate slid an arm around the back of Brad’s head, holding him hard in the crook of his elbow. He ran his other hand down between them, unable to wait any longer to touch Brad. Brad grabbed Nate’s shoulder from behind, forcing him to stay low and his mouth accessible. His other hand was between them, meeting Nate’s hand at their zippers.  
  
Nate pulled back for air. Brad felt the blood rushing in his ears.  
  
“Your fucking lips,” Brad growled. “Nate.”  
  
Nate’s body responded to Brad’s voice. He pushed Brad’s hand off his shoulder and knelt high. His groin was in front of Brad’s mouth as he unbuckled and unzipped. Brad pulled at the back waistband of Nate’s jeans -- getting them off felt vital for survival -- but Nate’s knees were spread too wide. Nate pulled his cock out, mostly hard already. Brad had him in his mouth before Nate could say a word. Brad pressed one hand hard on Nate’s pubic bone at the base of his dick and grabbed a handful of Nate’s jeans-covered ass with the other. He set a rapid pace.  
  
“Brad! Oh, fuck! Wait!” Nate felt his balls tightening already. The beer hadn’t taken the edge off his body’s response to Brad’s touch.  
  
Brad wanted to make Nate come, hard and fast and desperate. He wanted to hear Nate gasping. He didn’t let up. He swirled his tongue around the head of Nate’s cock and swallowed him back down. His fingers wrapped around Nate’s base, moving in the spit slick to chase his lips.  
  
Nate pushed back against Brad’s hand on his ass. He pushed on Brad’s shoulders, desperate not to come this soon. “Fuck! Brad!”  
  
Brad finally released him and Nate stood up like a shot. He was panting and flushed, and he was goddamn beautiful this way. Nate squeezed his cock hard and grimaced.  
  
“I couldn’t help it,” Brad said. The devilish glint in his eyes belied his true intentions.  
  
Nate stripped his pants off. He unceremoniously pulled off Brad’s boots and his pants and dropped to his knees in front of Brad.  
  
“My lips are distracting,” Nate mumbled, and then he was sucking on Brad’s cock with the same speed as Brad had sucked his. Nate’s fist was around him, and the friction it was making had Brad gasping for air. Nate looked up and grinned around the crown of Brad’s cock, taunting Brad with those lips of his.  
  
Brad groaned and tried to pull back. His mind was being erased with the pleasure of finally having this reality, but Brad vaguely knew that this was the crazed feeling that Nate had just been feeling.  
  
“No!” Brad wanted Nate to go on forever, but he didn’t want to come yet. Yes, no, yes, no. Fuck.  
  
Nate pulled off with a slurp and a smile. “See what I mean?”  
  
“Yes. Fuck,” Brad was holding Nate away at arm’s length and trying to get his heart rate down. “You made your point.”  
  
Nate licked his lips and smiled all teeth.  
  
“You are obscene,” Brad said.  
  
“You know what I love the most about this?” Nate stood up and pulled Brad up with him.  
  
Brad leaned his head on Nate’s shoulder and slowly kissed him there. “That no one else can make me feel like a teenager on his first date?”  
  
Nate laughed. “Thanks for that, but I’m quite glad you’re not literally a teenager. Some of the things I’ve been thinking about are from the advanced playbook.”  
  
Brad hissed against Nate’s skin. “Bedroom.”  
  
Nate started walking backwards, pulling Brad along with him. Their cocks kept hooking past each other. Nate gasped, “If the lube wasn’t in there, I would put you on the floor right here.”  
  
“Lieutenant, you need to stash that shit in every room next time I come over.”  
  
“I’ll take that under advisement.”  
  
Brad stopped just outside the bedroom door and pulled Nate tight to his body. Their mouths met again, just as urgently as before. They frotted against each other hard with only a thin sheen of sweat to ease the heat. Hands were on asses, pressing their bodies together.  
  
“Bed,” Nate ordered. He pulled Brad by the wrist, and then shoved him down on the mattress. Brad laid there, cock at attention and mouth slack, looking overwhelmingly beautiful. “Fuck, Brad. I want to do everything to you at once.”  
  
“Keep biting your lip like that,” Brad started (Nate didn’t realize he was even doing that), “and you won’t get to choose what happens next.”  
  
“We didn’t have the conversation about who tops,” Nate said suddenly.  
  
Brad was surprised, although he shouldn’t have been. “Tonight, I frankly don’t give a fuck. My whole reason for being here tonight is to make you come. I’ve had my ass fucked before and I’ve fucked some asses. You?”  
  
Nate got distracted for a second by Brad stroking himself on the bed.  
  
“Same,” Nate said. “Should we just see how it goes?”  
  
Brad reached out and pulled Nate on top of himself. “If you’re asking me for a specific thing that I want, then I have been jacking off to the image of coming on your chest.”  
  
Nate was surprised now. He blushed at the thought of Brad jerking off to mental pictures of him, even though he’d been doing the same to thoughts of Brad.  
  
“You don’t even have to ask nicely for that,” Nate said. “At the risk of sounding sentimental in the middle of a hot fuck, I want to see your face when I’m coming.”  
  
“Fuck yes. Then it sounds like we’ve come to an agreement.”  
  
Nate nodded. He swapped positions with Brad and pulled his knees up. Brad practically purred at the sight of Nate’s ass being offered to him like this.  
  
“Tonight I want it hard. We’ll do slow after this,” Nate said. “Drawer.”  
  
Brad yanked the bedside table open and pulled out a condom and the lube. He rolled the condom on and rubbed slow against Nate’s asshole. Their eyes met, fiery and begging at the same time.  
  
“Go,” Nate said.  
  
Brad dropped and pushed his tongue against Nate’s ass. Nate pulled his ass open with both hands and leaned into the insistent push of Brad’s tongue. The moist heat drew a guttural moan from him.  
  
“Go, go, go,” Nate chanted.  
  
Brad thrust his tongue deeper. Nate was so eager that Brad didn’t have to work for long. Nate’s eagerness went straight to Brad’s cock. He had to refrain from rubbing himself on the quilt.  
  
“Finger,” Nate gasped.  
  
Brad followed orders, crooking a finger into Nate’s ass. He licked across Nate’s perineum.  
  
“Another one.”  
  
Nate’s hips were pushing down onto Brad’s hand. A second finger. A third. Brad pushed himself up, watching Nate’s glowing face and then watching his fingers fuck Nate’s asshole.  
  
“Finally this is happening,” Brad said. He laid down over Nate, still fingering Nate’s ass wide open, and kissed his mouth.  
  
Nate moaned into the kiss and arched his hips up. He seemed to be trying to start a sentence, but his eyes kept glazing over. “I want to say something in concurrence, but all I can think of is the word ‘fuck.’ Your fingers... ooooh. Brad! Get up and fuck me now.”  
  
Brad sat back on his knees and yanked Nate by the hips to align them. He lined up and pressed in. Brad pushed a hard breath out as Nate’s ass surrounded his dick. Nate was cursing with pleasure, eyes on Brad’s face the whole time.  
  
Nate put his feet on the fronts of Brad’s shoulders and started fucking himself on Brad. Brad made a choked sound. He hadn’t ever been fucked by the person he was fucking... not like this. Nate’s teeth had bitten down on half of his lip again, and a flush was extending down onto his upper chest.  
  
“Let me give you hard, like you wanted,” Brad said.  
  
Nate let his legs relax, but Brad immediately picked up the pace. He grabbed Nate’s knees -- Nate’s legs were still braced against Brad’s chest -- and pounded into him. Their skin slapped together loudly. Each time Brad went for another thrust, there was the prickly sensation of sweat-sticky skin parting. Brad drew Nate back again and again, testing the angles until Nate was hissing with shallow breaths.  
  
“Touch yourself,” Brad said. Nate spit in his palm and stroked himself. Brad watched Nate pull hard on his whole length, squeezing around the tip with each stroke.  
  
Nate’s ass was so close to coming. The head of Brad’s cock was pushing on his prostate on every in and every out; Brad was moving fast. When Nate started stroking his cock, he saw Brad’s eyes widen with lust. Then Brad’s face looked totally wrecked with emotion. A strangled noise caught in Brad’s throat.  
  
“Brad, fuck! Hard! Now! I’m gonna come!”  
  
Brad remembered, somehow, Nate’s one request and locked eyes with him. He saw Nate’s face contort with pleasure as he fucked him through his orgasm. Nate’s muscles tensed hard and he yelled an incoherent grunt. His come spurted up over his chest. Some had landed as far as Nate’s lower lip and Brad could take no more. He pulled out and discarded the condom, coming across Nate’s flushed chest.  
  
The collapsed together. Nate’s legs fell open and he accepted Brad’s yielding body into a overheated embrace. The mess of come and sweat smeared between them, but neither cared.  
  
They dozed, and then Nate dragged Brad to the shower.  
  
“What were you going to say earlier about the part you loved the most about this?” Brad asked.  
  
“After that fucking, I might change my answer to ‘your cock in my ass.’” Nate laughed and ran his soapy hand up Brad’s dick. Brad hissed at the oversensitivity that was lingering.  
  
“Really.”  
  
“Ok, really. Not to put too fine a point on it, but there is no way that I could ever have this kind of thing with anyone else. We’ve been through too much.”  
  
Brad’s eyes looked like they were trying to swallow themselves for a second. This was a lot for a night that had started with a discussion of superpowers, but Nate was right. Brad told him so before they fell into another round of kissing.  
  
Their thorough cleaning led to a rush back to the bed for handfuls of lube. They fucked into each other’s hands, slowly this time. Their lips stayed together the whole time, swallowing each other’s needy breaths and soft grunts of pleasure.  
  
Afterward, they laid there, Nate’s cheek resting on Brad’s upper thigh. Nate still had a handful of kleenex, but he was too ruined to get up and get rid of it.  
  
“It’s only because my brain has been addled that I would even say such a thing, but that was a whole lot more than eyefucking,” Brad said slowly. “More like soulfucking.”  
  
Nate didn’t even care that it sounded corny as hell, because it was true.


End file.
